Thieves And Beggars
by Funky In Fishnet
Summary: House slave Nasir is bound for sale at auction to help pay his former master's debts. The ship he travels on is taken over by pirates led by the notorious privateer Spartacus. Nasir is instantly drawn to one of Spartacus's lieutenants, Agron, but yearns for his comfortable prestigious life on land. Or does he?


_**Disclaimer: **__I own nothing._

_**Summary: **__Both the title and the song lyrics at the beginning of the fic come from the song 'Hoist The Colours' from the film 'Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End'. Love and gratitude to einfach_mich for help with the research and for inspiring this fic in the first place. __**Warning: **__contains historical depiction of slaves and mentions badly-treated slaves._

* * *

**THIEVES AND BEGGARS**

_Yo, ho, haul together,  
hoist the colours high.  
Heave ho, thieves and beggars,  
never shall we die._

_Some men have died  
and some are alive  
and others sail on the sea  
– with the keys to the cage...  
and the Devil to pay_

_- _Hoist the Colours

Nasir was in the Captain's cabin when the pirates boarded. Captain Lewis shoved him aside and reached for his breeches and pistols. The noise coming from the deck was horrific, only getting louder when the door was kicked open and three men entered.

All three were filthy and they looked ready to kill at the slightest provocation – snarling expressions, swords brandished, skin splashed with blood. One bare forearm revealed the 'P' brand, a mark that was given to pirates. The middle figure was clearly in charge – it was obvious from the way he observed the cabin. They were everything that Nasir had been taught about pirates. Nasir wished he had a knife.

"You are the Captain of this ship?" the middle one asked in a measured tone that contrasted greatly with the noise above.

Captain Lewis bristled, pistols drawn. "And who might you be, dead man?"

The shorter of the others darted forward before either trigger could be squeezed; striking the Captain so hard across the face that Lewis staggered backward and dropped one of the pistols. The pirate grabbed both guns and forced the Captain to his knees.

"He is Spartacus," the pirate hissed. "A name you would do well to fear."

Lewis paled and Nasir kept his own gasp silent. Spartacus, the privateer who'd dared rebel and take several crews with him. The stories as to why varied wildly – some said his wife was killed, others that he got greedy for a larger share of the goods that he took off pirates and gave to the Navy. All Nasir knew for certain was that Spartacus' crew was the most feared of all those that sailed the oceans and that he, and the rest of the slaves, were unlikely to survive the night.

The third man spoke then, drawing attention to himself for the first time as he jeered at the fallen Captain. Nasir found himself unexpectedly transfixed. The pirate was tall and broad-shouldered and covered with impressive scars. He held a blade and pistol with confidence. He also had piercing green eyes and a surprising beauty that made Nasir's breath catch in his throat. Few men had ever made him pause so significantly before.

As the Captain was wrestled protesting out of the cabin, not doubt for brutish 'questioning,' Spartacus turned his attention to Nasir. With difficulty, Nasir tore his gaze away from the other man and looked Spartacus defiantly in the eye. This man was not his superior, so he would not bow his head. To his surprise, Spartacus did not dismiss him or jeer at his state of undress. Instead, he signalled for Nasir to leave the cabin too.

"Come. We're gathering everyone on deck."

It was a command and yet not a command. Nasir inclined his head and quickly made for the deck, sneaking another quick glance at the other pirate. The man was looking straight back, intrigued and with heat that stirred a similar feeling in Nasir.

Up on deck, Chadara grabbed his hands. All of the slave cargo was there, blinking and scared. Spartacus took his place in front of them. He sheathed his sword and held his pistol loosely at his side. He did not expect trouble.

"My name is Spartacus."

Immediately, quiet urgent chatter broke out amongst the slaves. Spartacus clearly expected that because he let it continue for several moments before raising his voice to halt it.

"And not all stories told of me are true. Yes, we have blood on our hands. But not slave blood. We seek only to set you free and to give you the chance to remove your chains and choose your own life, on sea or on shore. Whatever you choose, you will not be punished for it."

Chadara and Nasir exchanged glances. They had gleaned the same conclusion from the pirate captain's voice and gestures – Spartacus was speaking truth. Wishing to thrive in the position of house slave meant honing the ability to discern what was needed by master and mistress before the family themselves voiced it. It meant seeing through lies and providing truth when asked. Chadara and Nasir had both learned to become highly skilled in this.

Nasir was surprised – he had not expected all the murderous and cruel stories of Spartacus and his men to be true, but neither had he expected for there to be kindness and selflessness in the captain. What did the pirate gain from setting the slaves free? Possibly more crew, possibly people to secretly spread the truth of his mission, but just as possibly, people who could tell what they knew of him to the authorities for coin. It seemed needlessly risky for him and those that sailed on his ship. It seemed impossible.

But Spartacus told the truth. It was a tangle in Nasir's mind.

"For those who want to stay, you are welcome. For those who wish to go ashore, we will sail to a safe port that looks kindly on recently-free men. It is your choice. You have some weeks to make it."

To go ashore would be best. Nasir was of highly prized mixed blood, beautiful and valued as a house slave. He would have no trouble gaining a new master at the nearest auction house. He would be prized and comfortable and safe once more. Other slaves on the ship would take that path without question.

Yet Spartacus intrigued him. He spoke of wanting to free slaves, of giving them a choice, and he meant it. No other man that Nasir had met before had behaved in such a way. Nasir decided to watch him. He had weeks in solve the puzzle. And to gaze upon that pirate again, the one who had drawn him in so completely.

It didn't take long for Nasir to learn how truly different Spartacus was as a Captain.

He did not call any slaves for pleasure in his cabin. He had women as part of his crew, whose opinions were heard and valued. He made sure the slaves exercised and were well-fed and worked as part of the crew, even learning how to handle weapons. He only punished with whips when the offence was truly great. His two lieutenants seemed of the same mind. Crixus – the shorter one who had taken such pleasure in questioning Captain Lewis – seemed half-mad with something like grief or broken heart. But he kept his loud countrymen on the crew in line. The other, Agron, carried a similar grief within him that made him bare his teeth instead of smile and behave as though he hoped to go to the afterlife whilst killing the Navy's finest.

He also looked at Nasir with increasing heat and desire and something that could have been tenderness. It made Nasir ache in response. His own desire grew daily under Agron's attentive gaze. But Agron did not lay a hand on him, treating him respectfully, despite the banked fire in his eyes. And he soundly beat the crew member found taking pleasure from a screaming unwilling slave. Spartacus made it clear that such things were not permitted on the ship, no matter how strong the temptation. The slave should always be truly willing.

It was a strange crew indeed and their Captain was the strangest, a calm centre who contained much anger that he rarely released. Nasir had never met a man so honest in his impossible intentions. Spartacus truly meant to free as many slaves as possible, but he clearly intended revenge also. Someone from the Navy had done something distressing enough that a loyal privateer had turned pirate. Perhaps the story about his wife was true after all.

Nasir didn't realise how greatly he'd been affected by Spartacus and his lieutenants' behaviour until he heard them talking about Naevia. He was scrubbing the deck when he overheard a name he recognised. He paused and listened.

"I want to see Naevia freed too, Crixus. But we cannot visit every port on the coast. It will alert the governments to our presence and mission and they will use her as bait," Spartacus told his friend, tone even and logical.

Crixus shook his head, the wildness still bright and fraught in his eyes. "I'll slaughter any who stand in my way, government or free man. I'll not merely sail in vague hope of word reaching us of her location. I must do something!"

Nasir averted his gaze. Naevia. He remembered a slave of that name – beautiful and valuable. The Captain had certainly enjoyed her. Nasir had spoken to her, bringing her what food and drink he could. He had recognised her as a fellow house slave, as one bred for beauty and prestige like him. It had pained him deeply to see her suffer so.

He could tell Spartacus. Or he could keep the knowledge hidden and wait until he reached port where he could tell a Naval Commander who Spartacus sought and how it could be used as leverage. He could get himself an extremely suitable master, high up and revered, and so get himself the position, status, and comfort he was used to. He could achieve what he was made for.

But Nasir hesitated. Spartacus was clear in his intent to find Naevia. Crixus's grief and heartbreak were now explained. Nasir could say without hesitation that they were good men, even if their behaviour puzzled him still. If they had been masters, they would have treated slaves well. They would have been the sort of masters that Nasir had always preferred to belong to.

He had a choice, Nasir realised with some surprise. His first. He thought of Naevia. He remembered her quiet words about loss and how she had looked yearningly out of the cabin's porthole, missing somebody deeply. And he had told her that he would do what he could to restore her, so moved had he been by her plight. Not even belonging to a good master would have soothed Naevia. She was torn in two, wrecked, unless reunited with her lover. To love that deeply, Nasir wondered how it would feel.

He had a promise to keep, something he could actually fulfil now. So this was what it was like to have free will. He got to his feet and took a steady step forward.

"Captain?"

His voice – quiet but strong – caught Spartacus's attention. It also gained Agron's focus again. Nasir glanced at him briefly and longingly, afraid of getting pulled in and distracted from his task. That wasn't acceptable.

"Tiberius?" Spartacus remembered all their names.

Nasir inclined his head. "Apologies. I overheard your words. The slave, Naevia, she was on this ship no longer than a month ago."

Crixus immediately bore down on him, eyes intense and posture straining for violence. Nasir did not lean away. He was better than that.

"How can you be sure?"

"I talked with her, brought her food. The Captain took her company on the journey."

Crixus growled with displeasure at that, but Agron looked at Nasir with open admiration and Spartacus stepped forward, keen and focused.

"How can you know it was the woman of which we speak?"

"She was a house slave, beautiful, dark skin, shortened hair. She had a brand on her back, the mark of her master's house?"

Nasir drew the brand's shape in the air with his finger and Spartacus nodded. "Where was she taken to?"

"I don't know. But I kept the Captain's records. I can find the answer you seek."

Crixus laughed bitterly and suddenly grasped Nasir by the throat, pinning him to the nearest mast. Nasir struggled to breathe, eyes wide. The pirate was surely mad to hurt one who offered both help and hope.

"Here we get the truth. This fuck wants access to his Captain's cabin, to something hidden there for escape perhaps? Or bribery for when we get to shore? His Captain swore that Naevia hadn't set foot here."

Nasir shook his head as best he could and squeezed out words. "The Captain doesn't remember names, only bodies."

Spartacus signalled to Crixus and the pirate loosened his grip but kept hold. Nasir took in a deep breath, greatly relieved. It looked as though he would survive another day. Freedom brought too many dangers.

"How is it you came to keep the ship's records?" Spartacus asked quietly.

"The Captain favoured me and found I had skills of great use. My former master had me taught letters with his children, the better to serve his household. I put that to use here, and was promised comfortable safe passage in return."

Spartacus looked at him for a moment more and then nodded. Crixus scowled but released him. Nasir rubbed at his neck and throat. It was not the first time he'd gained bruises there.

"You will have access to the Captain's cabin," the new Captain told him. "And a guard, to be sure your duties are sound."

Trust, to some extent. Nasir nodded and was quietly pleased to see Agron join him as he went down below decks. Nasir set to searching out the logs, piling them onto the table. Agron took up post by the cabin door, his gaze ever watchful on Nasir. Nasir swallowed. The man was a temptation, one that Nasir would have gladly seen to the needs of if so commanded. It wasn't often that he got to do so with one he found so attractive. And it seemed frustratingly unlikely to happen now. Agron agreed with Spartacus's rules and Nasir was glad of it for the sake of the younger amongst the slaves who would be safe and undamaged until they reached shore. If they wished to be bought, they would fetch a higher price thanks to Spartacus.

"What is your real name, little man? The one you use doesn't suit your complexion."

Nasir paused and shrugged in answer. His real name was hidden deep within himself. If he chose to share it, he would no longer be Tiberius, no longer a slave.

He forced his attention back to the logs, paging through them carefully. There were many books to look through as Captain Lewis was highly-thought of as a transporter of goods. Agron moved closer. His breath was hot on Nasir's neck. It caused Nasir's heart to beat faster. He could sense a similar reaction in Agron, but the pirate didn't press closer or make lewd remarks. His eyes stayed on Nasir though, with a look in them as hungry as Nasir himself felt. He'd only ever felt such hunger occasionally before, and he hadn't had leave then to act on it.

Would Agron act on it? Most men did. Several in Spartacus's crew had enjoyed pleasure with slaves, slaves that were eagerly willing. Nasir was willing. If nothing else, to have the gift of pleasure with one he felt such heat for before he went ashore would be a great memory to treasure.

And Agron was willing but also not willing. Yet more confusion caused by Spartacus and his men.

Having Agron watching his back was strangely reassuring during the hours Nasir worked in the cabin though. It was comfortable, something he was sorry he wouldn't be able to get used to.

* * *

The lamps had been lit. Nasir twitched quickly into full wakefulness. Agron had a hand on his arm, no doubt to rouse him, a hand that lingered before gesturing to a plate of food and a full tankard. Nasir managed a grateful expression before attacking the plate ravenously. Inside, he was awkwardly touched. No free man had ever served him food before.

"There's only a few books left," Nasir offered, conscious that Crixus remained suspicious and no doubt keen to clear away those he perceived to be in his way.

Agron nodded, his gaze as always intent on Nasir. Nasir tried hard not to stare back. The pirate was clearly not going to push his intentions. And the closer the ship got to the safe port, the more conscious Nasir was that his chance to bed the beautiful brute was slipping away. The thought drove him closer to madness each day. Here on the ship, he was a free man, allowed to pursue his desires. This was the only time he would have the danger of choice, and Nasir was close to using it for his own heated end.

Before Nasir could form the words though, Agron's gaze fell to the inked letters that Nasir had been studying for the past several days.

"The letter knowledge you have is a powerful weapon, little man. It belongs to you. Use it for your own purposes."

Nasir stared back surprised. "You will not press me to your cause?"

"If it is not your cause by choice, what use will you be?"

The bluntness of Agron's words didn't hurt. They made sense. Nasir nodded in reply. However, he remained taken aback that Spartacus and his men did not try to force the slaves into service for their cause. Spartacus had need of every man he could find, yet he did not take by force those available. Nasir's curiosity and admiration for the pirate captain and his lieutenants grew steadily each day.

A name on a page caught his eye and he pulled the book closer. Yes, he had seen correctly.

"She is here," he told Agron excitedly. "Naevia."

Agron smiled broadly and Nasir found himself short of breath in response. The pirate was astonishing to behold and seemed unaware of the effect his looks had. By the time Nasir had his breath back, Agron had called for Crixus. The pirate then offered his hand. Nasir recognised the offer of a handshake, a clasp of forearms that he'd seen Spartacus' men exchange before. He was being thanked and honoured. He was being treated as an equal. With a small hesitation, Nasir took the offered hand, then grasped Agron's arm, enjoying the firm skin and muscle. They stayed locked together, eyes intent on each other for a long moment. Now that he finally had Agron so close, the heat and want the pirate expelled inflamed Nasir into abrupt hungry action. He would enjoy this while he could. He tugged Agron suddenly closer, revelling in the pirate's proximity, and studied his reaction.

Surprise was clear on Agron's face, as was heat burning hotter within him. Then Agron's other hand cradled Nasir's shoulder, not with restraint but intent. The message was clear to one with Nasir's discernment skills – Agron was willing and wanting, but if Nasir wanted this too, it would go only at Nasir's pace.

Nasir sucked in a breath. Agron did not stop surprising him. The idea of such a relationship, of something so unfathomable, dangled enticingly before him. On the ship, where all were equals, it was a strange and alluring possibility. Before Nasir could question further, Crixus threw open the door and the moment was snuffed out.

* * *

Naevia had been taken to a Naval base. As far as Nasir could tell from his own notes, there'd been no special request for her. She and a large group of women had been taken there, to help keep the place in order. Crixus's expression became furious and anguished at the thought of his woman surrounded by the people he hated most. He apparently knew of the treatment she would receive there. Nasir swallowed past bile in his throat. He had an idea of it too. Such a fate was not fit for someone of Naevia's beauty and breeding.

Spartacus thanked Nasir for his work and Nasir could see Agron's proud face close by. The sight made his heart skitter. Agron wanted so plainly. Nasir could drown contentedly in that feeling. To be wanted was what he was used to, though he had never encountered such ferocity of feeling before, such honesty and tenderness. There was no sign of Agron merely possessing an itch to be scratched.

If Nasir stayed on the ship, he could have that.

He shook his head at himself. He could not seriously contemplate such an action, but the more time he spent in Agron's presence, the more obvious the pull to stay became. The pirate had gotten under his skin, thanks to the way his eyes followed Nasir, how he talked and brought drink when the rations were divided up. He cared about Nasir beyond the simple sating of lust, and it showed in his every action.

Nasir had slowly gotten used to it – the choice that freedom provided, being allowed to truly speak your mind, being treated as equal to a free man. The ship's journey was a long one and Nasir hadn't realised how comfortable he now was in such an atmosphere. Agron was a large part of that, of course, and Nasir had come to love his company. But it was also seeing the way Spartacus treated his men and the equal way he treated the slaves. This was a man who spoke of how to behave and then proceeded to live exactly as he preached. Few men existed who possessed that kind of character, Nasir was sure of that.

He had been valued as a slave, that had always been obvious to him. But he was valued here too, not merely for his body or his duties or his letter skills. He was valued simply because he lived. It was a heady thing to encounter, and Nasir was surprised to find that when he thought about it, he was hungry for more.

He had talked frequently with Agron, their life stories slowly emerging. Agron's grief was explained briefly and with much pain – his brother, Duro, had died in a tavern brawl. They'd both been Navy men, though Spartacus's call to join his now-pirate crew had matched their own opinions of their employer and that night the Navy had come to round up deserters. Duro had taken a knife blow meant for Agron and had died in his brother's arms.

The look on Agron's face as he spoke aloud these facts caused Nasir to move closer. He remembered vaguely being parted from his own family when he was very small. That was the slave life. He had been too small to miss them. Only now, with people who valued family and freedom and being with those you loved, did such memories trouble him.

He was changing. He was no longer the perfect highly-valuable slave, empty of all but his master's commands. Spartacus, and Agron, had broken him.

Every day such thoughts pushed him closer to staying aboard. Every day such thoughts unnerved and excited him.

The feeling he got from being near Agron was not fleeting. And Nasir could see that other slaves had already decided that they would not live on land again. Perhaps they saw what he did – that whilst this life would be fraught with danger and pain, if any could break the slaves' chains forever, it would be Spartacus and his men.

And, Nasir had realised as he'd looked through the ledgers, he could help them do it.

* * *

Nasir took in the beautiful view. A port was beginning to appear on the horizon. Other slaves were crammed against the side of the ship, happy to see land again, no doubt planning how they would use their time in Spartacus's company to their own advantage once on shore. Nasir was surprised to find such venom in his thoughts as he considered this.

Agron stood beside him, their arms pressed together. He had not said anything yet, but sadness and worry had haunted his expression ever since land had first been sighted. Something strangely warmed in Nasir – Agron feared losing him. Whatever sickness Spartacus and Agron had infected him with had made him waver from the seemingly upward path he had always clung to. He'd always thought that he knew where he belonged. He looked to newer goals now; goals that Spartacus made seem possible, goals that Agron made him want.

"Dry land calls to them," he commented, nodding his head towards the eager slaves.

He turned to see Agron staring at him. He had come to crave that attention. Could he live without it now? Could he serve as flawlessly as he had before? Did he want to? Agron lifted a hand and cradled Nasir's cheek. The touch caused Nasir's breath to stutter.

"Does it call to you, Tiberius?"

The discomfort of that name sliced into Nasir, in a way that it never had before Agron had entered his life. Nasir smiled softly, at the bravery of the pirate in asking such a question, knowing rejection could be as close as the port was becoming. Perhaps he was not the only one changed by this journey. Nasir was unable stop himself from leaning into the palm that held him. To affect change in someone so strong was heady indeed.

He was a fool to ever think that life could again be satisfying on land, not now that he knew what the sea could offer him and what he could offer the sea. He was a fool to think that he hadn't made his choice already.

He turned his head deliberately and kissed Agron's palm, nuzzling into the flesh. The sharp intake of Agron's breath made him want to smile greedily. Something started to loosen in his chest. It was an odd new sensation. He remembered fleetingly his mother – chosen to birth him because of the value in her beauty – and the barefoot boy who had held him and laughed and called him a name that nobody else ever did.

"Nasir," he said, like taking a breath before the dawn. "My brother called me Nasir."

_-the end_


End file.
